Different Things Dixon Does
by Demonic Angel Clone
Summary: Sad that the highlight of his day was Officer Friendly at his back, pushing him up against a blackboard with cuffs around his wrist, his breath down his neck, and a hard on that was begging to be sucked off...Rick/young!Daryl, AU
1. Under lock and key

**_Warning_****: Profanity, M/M (slash), sexual harassment.**

* * *

_Different Things Dixon Does_

* * *

"Hey Dixon!"

Daryl's eyes cut wildly behind him, his index finger over thinly drawn lips as he motions Jesse forward. When the blond doesn't stop catcalling, however, Daryl leans over hastily, holds him easily in a half-nelson beside him in the basement.

"Yo! What the _fuck_, man?"

_"Shut the fuck up!"_ Daryl hisses, breath beating down on the shell of his ear. He looks up at the plastered ceiling with keen eyes, waiting to hear his father wake up, the creak of his favorite recliner, but it never comes. "This is some sensitive shit I'm working on," he takes the blunt he has set away beside him and takes a pull, blowing it out the side.

Releasing the blond, Jesse steps back with a grimace, smoothing out his disheveled sweatshirt. "_Not_ fucking cool."

"That's what I said to your mom last night," Daryl says after another pull. "After that shitty blowjob she gave me."

"That's because you're _a fucking queer!_" Jesse spits furiously.

"I ain't a fucking queer," Daryl grits out, holding his blunt between his teeth as he rolls another. "I just fuck queers. Occasionally."

"Man, what-fucking-_ever_," Jesse slides his hand down his face, trying to get the image out of his head. Frowning, he sets his hand on the counter, gesturing with his other hand. "How many of those you got rolled?"

"Enough to get ready to roll," Daryl says vaguely.

"Shit. Better be," Jesse grouses out. "I need to make this money."

"And I _don't?_" Daryl rounds in on him, puffing out his chest. "At least you got parents that give two shits; I got a motherfucking bastard, and Merle."

"Yeah, parents up my ass, I got it real good," Jesse rolls his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Daryl doesn't say anything because, maybe, just maybe, shit for him would be different if he had parents up his ass. He takes a last pull of the cannabis and smothers it out roughly against the table. "Let's get goin'," he says, stuffing the weed in his bag. Up the stairs, said motherfucking bastard is passed out on the couch, but luckily he's so far gone he can't see straight. Merle was up in prison for dealin', so someone's got to pay the bills, right?

He heads out with his bookbag with Jesse in tow because apparently he knows people - sorry, he's got fucking _channels_ - that would be interested in a cut and he definitely needs a take right about now, since the only thing they have up in the fridge is some wonderbread and a jar of pickles.

They roll out on Merle's bike, the roar of the engine underneath feeling like freedom as the wind whips against his skin and maybe he'll eat an actual fucking meal after tonight's deal.

And then, just then, sirens ignite behind him and the red and blue lights feel like fire at his back.

* * *

Rick purses his lips, going through the file when he hears Shane come up beside him. His partner takes a glance over his shoulder, examining the mug shot. "You know him?"

"No, not really," Rick adds on. "Kid's only 17 years old."

"So, a screw-up in training," Shane chortles with a shake of his head. "Sounds about right."

"Sounds like this kid had it rough," Rick corrects with a frown. "Been in and out of the system before age 15, and under the guidance of his father and brother, it's no wonder."

Shane takes the file from Rick, observes it more closely. "Daryl Dixon…yeah, I know who this is. His brother Merle's a real grade-A asshole. And Will Dixon? A waste of space. Looks pretty open and shut to me. He's not making bail," Shane observes. At the crease in his partner's eyes, Shane shakes his head. "Rick, I'm telling you, from the stock this kid is from? He'll be lucky if he's not in prison before 21."

Rick nods, but it doesn't feel right.

He heads down past the booking lobby to the holding cell occupied by two junkies sleeping on opposite cots, and Daryl Dixon squatting down with his head against the wall in the corner. "Would you like to make your phone call now?"

"Ain't got no one t' call," Daryl groans out, still looking at the ceiling. Finally, he bows his head down and looks him right in the eye with a lucid intensity that throws Rick off. "But I bet you knew tha', _Officer Friendly_."

Rick taps his knuckles against the cell door, shaking his head. "You've got to have someone." He thinks back to the bust, "You tell me the name of the kid that was riding with you, and I'll see what I can work out."

"I ain't tellin' you shit," Daryl frowns. Even if Jesse is a punk ass son of a bitch, he won't say anything. Getting off the bike and ditching when they got stopped. He should tell because he deserved whatever he got coming, but Daryl wasn't no snitch and it was stayin' that way.

His hand runs through his scuffy brown hair, trying not to think about a few monetary things - like the fact that if the mortgage wasn't paid by the end of the week, he and his dad would end up losing their shitty house, not that he would care. There was also his job at Peletier's lot detailing cars- Ed was definitely going to chew his ass out, probably end up firing him too. School...who gives a shit about school.

And then there was still that whole _'hadn't eaten for the past 12 hours'_ thing that was literally gnawing at him from the inside. His stomach inadvertently growls loudly in protest at this in the cell, and Daryl looks away from Rick's piteous eyes.

"Need something to eat, kid?" Rick's voice invades the cell from the outside, and Daryl stubbornly shakes his head. Rick sighs, "Look, I...I'd really like to help you. But I can't do that if you're not going to be honest with me, so I'll start again: would you like something to eat?"

Daryl doesn't move, doesn't say anything, at first. Finally, despite himself, he nods, still not making eye contact.

Rick tips his head forward, "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

A couple of days, and a few sandwiches later, Daryl makes bail, much to his surprise.

After the first night, they forced him to change into the county jumpsuit for hygienic reasons, so being able to finally put his feet back into his army boots is a pretty damn good feeling. He doesn't want to get his hopes up because it's not like Merle's out of prison, but his only other family lived out in the boonies, and maybe, just maybe, the old bastard realized he was missing for once.

As expected, his old man couldn't give two shits because when he's processed and escorted out the lobby, it's Jesse that's waiting on him, all twitchy and anxious and shit. Daryl frowns as they hand back his possessions and ducks out with Jesse who looked more than happy to leave than he felt.

"You paid my bail?" Daryl cocks his head as they head out the station.

Jesse shrugs, dipping his head. "Had to get my shit together first, and then convince my parents that there was a _field trip_ coming up I would really benefit from." At that, Daryl scoffs. "Yo, I'm sorry man, but think of it this way: if I didn't dip out, both of our asses would still be stuck in there."

"Yeah, you did me a real favor," Daryl rolls his eyes. "Still got a court date at county, house up for foreclosure...think I was better off on the inside if you know what I mean."

"_Screw that_ man, no one is better off on the inside," Jesse frowns unlocking his car and Daryl hesitates at the passenger side. "C'mon, get it."

"You brought the beaner-mobile," the younger Dixon says with a sneer.

"You know what then, walk your ungrateful hillbilly ass home; I had to pull money out my ass and risk being identified, thank you fucking _much_!" Jesse hisses over the roof, and then slams his door once he enters the car. The hydraulics raise the car up, and then lower it closer to the cement and Daryl leans his head back in resignation before entering the car with a slam of his own.

They pull out and head down the road and mostly because he feels like he should say something, Daryl says, "Those cops that stopped us were Sheriff's deputies or some shit."

"Is that why that one guy looked like he was from the _Andy Griffin_ show?"

"Yeah," Daryl nods. "They were bustin' my balls about you, mainly the one with the hat." Who, as far as cops go, wasn't as big of an asshole as he would have expected.

"…You didn't _say_ anything, right?"

"Nah, I didn't say anything about your ass, Pinkman. If anything, I did you a favor 'cause I'm pretty sure that other guy would've loved to get his hands on a twitchy thing like you."

"Fuck you," Jesse says with a laugh.

* * *

_Rick surveys this kid with a critical eye, "I'm going to be at your hearing next month on the fifteenth."_

_"Don't do me any favors," Daryl mumbles, scratching at his temple._

_Rick smiles despite himself. "Part of the job, actually. I'm required to be present at any and all of the hearings that have anyone I've personally brought in," he flips back through the manilla folder in his hands._

_"Now, I can look at your record for any recent arrests or activity, but I canonly look as far as this county; do you have a record anywhere else?" At Daryl's silence, he leans forward, "Do you have a criminal record anywhere else?"_

_"Heard you the first time," Daryl frowns. "No."_

_Rick nods, "Okay. The motorcycle you were riding on was impounded," Daryl winces at that, "And with your ticket, bail has been set at $832." Daryl buries his head in his hands, tries to force the number out of his mind. "Now, they're going to allow you to have a phone call, I suggest you call someone. If you can't make bail, you will be here until the hearing on the fifteenth where the judge will make the final decision."_

_"And what'll tha' be?" Daryl grits out, a migraine starting to form due to the lack of food._

_Rick's lips set in a fine line. "It can be from staying in county for another 30 days, to juvenile detention, or community service," the sheriff deputy sighs. "It's her prerogative."_

_"Her?" Daryl questions dubiously._

_"Yes, her," Rick looks through the file again. "Judge Harrison."_

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit...Daryl groans. It just keeps getting better. Never mind the fact that Merle was going to murder him for getting his bike impounded after all that money Daryl had to dish to get it out, or the fact that he and his father may well be homeless in the next few days, but now the mother of the girl he hooks up with on the regular (because they've known each other since forever, and she gets a kick out of being his one and only female squeeze) is going to be the one to determine his fate._

_"Shit," Daryl mutters under his breath._

_"Do you have any questions?" Rick asks with an authoritative southern accent that if things were different, Daryl would think was hot as hell. As things were, it was just more crap in this shit storm that he had to deal with._

_"Got a thousand dollars?" Daryl asks. When Rick doesn't reply, the young delinquent turns toward the wall, "Figures."_

_Rick tips his hat, "I'll see you in court, then. Good luck, Daryl."_

_Fuck his _life_._

* * *

Premise of the story is basically this: AU where Daryl is a teenage delinquent (around 17 years old) who keeps getting busted/detained for minor offences by Rick. They become friendly because Rick realizes Daryl isn't a bad kid... but then Daryl begins to blatantly make sexual passes at him. Rick eventually succumbs to Daryl's advances. Blah, blah, blah, inappropriateness, slash, ect. Ummm...haven't written slash in ages, certainly never posted any, so don't judge me too hard. Ages, locations, ect. are pretty random in this AU, so please feel free to ask questions.

A few things, as I'm sure people have figured.

1) Jesse IS Jesse Pinkman from _Breaking Bad_. Why? Because I watched it while I was on spring break and he just sort of snuck in. Plus, I wanted Daryl to have a friend type character, but I didn't want it to be Merle (too obvious) and any of the other male characters in the show would have been an odd fit pre-ZA (i.e. Glenn, T-Dog, ect).

2) Rick and Shane are still the same age (Rick being 28, Shane 25, none of that love triangle shizz with Lori - _yet_). Daryl is 17, making Merle around the same age as Shane. Other ages will vary depending on plot.

3) Daryl is bi.

More soon~

DAC


	2. Bar bound

_Different Things Dixon Does_

* * *

After Jesse drops him off, Daryl steps inside the house, notices that his father migrated from the recliner to the loveseat, and heads up to take a shower, anything to wash that jail grime off.

He knows another Grimes he'd like to wash off too.

"Fuck," he frowns, shedding his tank. He has his arrest on rewind in his head, his body pressed against the cop car, the sheriff deputy's hand on his shoulder as he lowered him into the car. His baritone as he announced they were heading downtown.

He takes a quick cold shower, throws on some clothes, and tiptoes out the house, taking a walk to the two story across the road and climbing up the trellis as usual. Sliding the window at the top open, he easily maneuvers inside the bedroom, all white and lilac and pure fuzzy rainbows and shit.

Actually, there weren't any rainbows, but there might as well have been. The petite girl on the bed flips another page in whatever smarty pants book she was reading (no _pictures_? What the hell?) and she doesn't even bother looking at him as he heads over to her mini fridge across the room, raiding the soda and frowning at the rest of the contents.

"Why do you keep all this girly shit in here?" Daryl gripes, grabbing a peach and a small tupperware of chicken salad that was probably made just last night.

"Define: _girly shit_," the blonde on the bed quips lightly, turning another page.

Daryl lounges on the computer chair by her desk, taking a vicious bite out of the peach. "Fruit and all of this Martha Stewart bull - where's the _meat_? _Chips_?"

Taking a break with her book by earmarking the page and setting it aside, she looks up at him with bright blue eyes. "You _know_ who Martha Stewart is?" She asks with an air of faux curiosity.

"Fuck you," Daryl says, taking another bite of his peach.

Kneeling on the bed and with a roguish grin she replies, "Got a condom?"

"Later," Daryl frowns. "I'm starving and you haven't wined me or dined me."

Amy's lips quirk downward in a pout. "You're supposed to wine and dine _me_, I'm the girl. And where were you?"

"Details," Daryl quips, lifting the tupperware cover off and using two of his fingers as a makeshift spoon.

"Daryl," Amy calls his attention. She gives him a knowing glance and he sighs.

"I was locked up."

"_What?_"

"Yeah," Daryl mumbles, licking white cream off of his fingers. "Tell your mom to lay off the mayo next time."

"Dad made it."

"No wonder it's _shitty_."

_"Daryl!"_

"What?" The young Dixon stares back at the young Harrison, who crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. "Okay, _fine_, it's not shitty."

"Not what I meant," Amy shakes her head.

"I know," Daryl sighs. "Was caught riding dirty."

"Unbelievable," Amy scoffs, running a fast hand through her blonde tresses. "I told you-"

"Skip the lecture and use that brain of yours to prevent a first degree murder, huh?"

Amy's blue eyes grow large and her jaw drops, "What did you _do_? Rob a mob boss and now he's out to get you?"

"More like Merle's bike is detained and I'm up a creek without a goddamn paddle," Daryl cracks open his Coke, nearly chugs the can down in one go.

Amy shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. "Goodbye freedom, and hello bus stop," she frowns. "Well, I'm sure we can gather enough money to get the bike out; I mean, I still have some holiday money left, and my birthday is really soon..."

"Not soon enough. Merle's ugly ass is heading to appeal, and 'coording to his lawyer, she could actually get the bastard off." Daryl's lips quirk downward, and it's not as if he's not happy at his brother possibly getting off, he's just not happy at what's going to happen to his hide when he does and finds out.

Amy groans. "That really sucks, Daryl."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"Well," Amy begins awkwardly. "Here's to hoping he gets six more months?" At his silence, she backtracks, "Uh, I mean, not that I want him in prison, that's not good, but at least he can handle himself."

"Bastard's probably doping it up right now," Daryl says with a smirk.

"Exactly," Amy breathes out. "So...what are you going to do?"

Daryl puts his hands behind his head as he leans back in the computer chair, "Start from scratch, ask for an advance...somethin'."

* * *

"Are you _fucking crazy_?" Jesse stares at him the next day at school, eyes bugging out of his head. "Forget Merle's bike, that ride's hot anyways, that's why we got _stopped_."

"That still don't change the fact that I gotta get it out," Daryl shakes his head with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, regardless, that bike's the least of your worries - we gotta get some cash, fast."

And the worst part was that Jesse was right. So seeing that glint in his eyes, Daryl frowned, "So whatchu thinkin'?"

Jesse looks around the hallway, makes sure no one can hear what he's about to ask. "What's hot on the streets right now?"

Daryl frowns because how the fuck should he know, he ain't Merle. "I don't know, ecstasy?"

Jesse gives him a contemplative look, nods his head in approval, "Yeah, but that's not what I meant."

When he doesn't elaborate after that, the young Dixon frowns. "Spit it out, then."

"Meth."

"Meth?" Daryl questions, and Jesse shushes him when he does, much to his chagrin.

"Can't do it alone," Jesse shrugs. "And you know how good I am with Chili P, all I gotta do is get some of my smurfs in _Hotlanta_ to do some runs for us, and we can get it goin'."

"And at whose place?" Daryl crosses his arms.

"That's another thing too," Jesse begins sheepishly. "My parents are all over my ass, and you're one search warrant away from having your basement searched, so that shit's out."

"Then where?"

Jesse thinks it over, runs a fast hand through his blond spikes anxiously. "You know that one place you go to on Saturday nights?"

"The _Beat-A-Round_?"

Jesse shudders. Punk ass bitch.

The _Beat-A-Round_ fronted as a mom and pop convenience store by day, a fight club on Thursdays, and its basement was a gay bar on the weekends.

Daryl took Jesse there a few times, where he promised there would be no gay shit going down (which wasn't exactly a lie if you didn't think about and didn't look around, which you couldn't anyways because the place was dark and anonymous as shit) but he still suspects that the barhand snuck in a bit more vodka in Jesse's drink because he thought he was cute.

"Dude tried to give me a handjob in there," Jesse mumbles.

"I was right there," Daryl drawls with a smirk. "You were into it."

"I thought it was a broad! Shit. Not the point; they got a backroom and if we could rent that out, it'd be perfect."

Frowning, Daryl shrugs. "You gotta talk to Dale about it."

"Shit. Can't you do it? He likes you."

"Dale don't like me," Daryl sighs. "That old fart's been running the Beat-A-Round since before Jesus turned water into wine, I ain't about to ask him if we could use his backroom to cook up some meth, you do it."

"Stop saying that shit out loud," Jesse cuts his eyes around the corner, and a couple of teachers walk past but don't suspect anything. "We need a code word. We can't cook any _meals_ without a place to do it."

"So then ask Dale so that you can cook your..._meals_."

"What if he hits on me?"

"Then he ain't got no taste if he wants a lil' tight ass like you," Daryl shuts his locker. "I gotta go."

Jesse nods his head, raps his fist on the locker next to him in parting.

Daryl heads to his street law class, ready to fall asleep because the teacher was slack as hell and usually just put on a video for them to watch. He heads toward the back, like usual, and sits next to that Asian kid who, out of fear, always gives him the answers to whatever pop quiz they sometimes have. Glenn looks up from his drawing, and winces when Daryl plops down onto the desk next to him. "'Sup _Korean_. I want an extra large pepperoni, extra cheese, original crust."

Glenn frowns, looking down at his doodle. "I don't _make_ the pizzas; I just deliver them."

Daryl smirks. "Whatever, you deliver a lot of other things too." To further demonstrate his point, the young Dixon makes a beating motion in the air with one hand while he simultaneously juts his tongue back and forth in his right cheek. Glenn becomes slightly red in the face, and doesn't say anything else after that.

According to Amy, lil' chinkboy couldn't hold his liquor, so the plan was to get him insanely drunk at one of her cheerleader parties so that she could work up the courage to talk to him.

But that's not what happened.

Instead, Glenn got so plastered that he sat there the whole time chatting up a very amused Daryl, and then some shit happened, and the lights went off, and by the time they came back on, Daryl came in lil' chinkboy's mouth. And Amy, being the total kink that she was, took pictures on her cell.

So after that, he pretty much started giving Daryl answers to any quizzes, aid on essays, and probably would've volunteered to wipe his ass too as he pointed out that Amy never deleted things out of her phone.

Ever.

Their teacher Mr. Wilkes (who insisted on just being called Jim) actually stands up (which he never did being lazy as all get out) and puts his hands together. "Okay class, I know I've been promising all semester that I would get someone from law enforcement in, and today's the day. Now, I want you all to _pay attention_," he makes a point to direct this at Daryl, who almost tells him to go fuck off somewhere, but feeling charitable, puts his work boots up on the desk as he crosses his legs and leans back. Jim continues to drone on, and as Daryl almost closes his eyes, the next few words make him sit at attention. "Please give it up for Deputy Sheriff Richard Grimes."

"You've got to be _fucking_ me," Daryl mumbles.

In walks the same man responsible for his arrest a few days ago with that freshly laundered uniform and that cleanly shaven mug, tipping his hat forward with a pearly white smile as the applause from the class guides him. Daryl watches him intently as he shakes hands with Jim and directs himself to the front of the class. Without meanin' to, he thinks that he's got nice sized hands, probably even gives great head with a mouth like that.

And just like that, Daryl Dixon's day just got a _helluva_ lot more interesting.

* * *

Annnnnnnd cliffhanger.

More soon~

DAC


	3. Handcuffs and write-ups

_Different Things Dixon Does_

* * *

Rick stands at the podium, authoritative and capable, though inwardly a bit sheepish. Shane was always better at dealing with kids and school events in the community, so it was a shame to hear that he called in sick (which Rick wasn't inclined to believe for a minute; he was probably out playing hooky with Jenny, teaching her the novelties of turning lights _on_ and _off_).

Nonetheless, Jim was a family friend, and it would only be for an hour and a half, so where could the harm in that be? At least they were high schoolers and more up to his speed (Shane was always better with small children) and it did give him a reason to go and maybe take Carl out of lunch after, talk to him about that argument he and Lori had earlier. Just a snag in an otherwise happy and healthy marriage; everyone in relationships fought, right?

Putting that to the back of his mind, he smiles, "Thank you for the introduction, Jim. As Mr. Wilkes has already said, I am a deputy sheriff from the King County Sheriff department; does anyone know what a deputy sheriff is?"

The class is thankfully small with most of the students sitting toward the front. A young Black girl raises her hand, and Rick nods at her.

"A deputy sheriff is supervised under an actual sheriff, but can still work within the scope of their field without instruction. They work in law enforcement and crime prevention and are responsible in training anyone in a lower rank under their supervision," Sasha relays articulately, and Rick looks at Jim in approval.

"Good job," Jim says from his desk. "Anyone have anything else to add?"

"Kiss ass," Daryl mutters from the back.

Sasha turns her body halfway and looks back at him with narrowed eyes. "What did you just say?"

"I said you deserve a medal," Daryl cuts a glance at her.

"Go suck a _dick_, Dixon," Sasha hisses at him.

"Spread open your legs, sweetheart," Daryl says, sucking in his cheek, and Sasha almost stands up, but Maggie puts her hand over her shoulder and shakes her head.

"He's not worth it, Sasha, let it go," Maggie whispers, though she glares back at the delinquent, who rolls his eyes.

Suck off a couple of dudes, and suddenly everyone's a critic. So, _maybe_ he gave a couple of blowjobs to Senor Martinez, the ESL teacher, and Guillermo, the school janitor. As far as he was concerned, all that meant was that he liked burritos.

"Settle down now," Jim Wilkes says from his desk. "The next person who speaks out of turn is getting kicked out." He looks directly at Daryl, who decides to stare out the window at that moment.

"No need for that, Jim," Rick says in a laid-back manner, presenting his badge and pulling out his firearm. "Now, as long as I have both of these items on my person, I can make an arrest as if I were still in uniform. Now, I've heard you've been going over the Miranda rights, so all I really need is a volunteer so that you can see how this is done."

All of the girls raise their hands because all that translated to was _I'm going to handcuff you and hold you to a car as I whisper in your ear. _

_Predictable_, Daryl scoffs. He's had enough of the justice system for one school year, a repeat really wasn't necessary.

Rick contemplates the risen hands of volunteers, until his eyes land on one indifferent figure in the back. "How about the young man in the corner?"

Daryl raises a brow at him, wonders if he's being serious right now. "Nah, I'm good." He couldn't recognize him; he probably arrested hundreds of assholes every day and just because he was the "nice cop", didn't mean that he would notice him in a crowd.

"He probably spent his weekend being read his Miranda rights," Maggie says in a whisper loud enough for him to hear, as she and Sasha laugh at the image.

Oh the fucking irony. If only those brats knew.

_Well then_, Daryl conspires, _let's give 'em somethin' to laugh at._ "Know what? I change my mind," Daryl gets up from his desk, putting his wrists together in front of him with a smirk on his face. "Matter o' fact, we should head out to the car outside, make it_ just like last weekend,_" he winks at Maggie and Sasha in the front, who shake their heads at him in disgust. He makes a note to sic Amy on them later on.

Rick hesitates, not really expecting that. In fact, it's not even until he's standing in front of him, that he recognizes his face from his file. So much for employing Shane's tactic of taking the most disinterested kid for this. "We really don't have to," the sheriff deputy says quickly.

Jim stands, "I think it's a great idea. It'll show some of us the path they'll be heading down in the future if they continue down the path they're on."

Daryl really, _really_ wants to tell him to shove his opinions up his tight ass, but before he can manage, he's pushed up against the blackboard, hands behind his back. "You are now under arrest. Anything you say or do will be used against you in a court of law." The handcuffs clasp tightly against his wrists and he frowns, forehead against the chalk erase board as snickers are heard behind him. "You have the right to an attorney; if you cannot afford an attorney, you will be appointed one by the state of Georgia. Do you understand these rights as they have been said?"

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl drawls lazily.

"Now, does anyone know the court case that started the Miranda rights?" Rick says to the class, but Daryl can feel the vibrato of his voice from his back, and being handcuffed like this in front of everyone was kind of turning him on, making his hair stand on end and goosebumps run down his arm.

"_Miranda v. Arizona_," Glenn speaks up, and he just knows lil' chink must be enjoying the show.

"That's right," Rick nods. "Now, what's one common misconception about Miranda rights?"

"Oh, I know this," Sasha says. "A lot of people think that if you aren't read your Miranda rights that you can't be arrested, but that's not true. All it does is stops the criminal from being incriminated at the scene of the crime."

Jim nods, filled with pride. "Two for two. Anyone else has anything to say?"

"That Miranda chick must've been a real _twat_," Daryl smirks. More than half the class laughs at that, he can even feel Officer Friendly shaking his head behind him, probably fighting the urge to smile at that.

He hears the clink of the handcuffs unlocking and rubs his wrist after the metal is removed. Rick gives him a pat on the back and smiles good-naturedly at him, and Daryl, feeling the warmth of the sheriff deputy's hand on his shoulder, gives a small, crooked smile back.

Jim, however, is less than amused. "Out," he states, pointing to the classroom door. At Daryl's raised eyebrow, he says, "I warned you before our guest got here, and I just gave you another reprieve a couple of minutes ago."

"I don't think he meant it that way, Jim," Rick says in a placating manner, and Daryl turns his head to the side, surprised that the deputy is speaking out on his behalf.

"You don't understand, Rick, he does this _all_ the time, making snide comments," Mr. Wilkes frowns at his student.

"C'mon _Jimbo_, I was just playin' around," Daryl says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Principal's office, Dixon! _Now._"

Mr. Wilkes is standing, slightly red in the face from annoyance, pointing his index finger out the door. Daryl looks at Rick, gives him a sidelong wink that the sheriff's deputy is at a loss in responding to, and heads to the back to get his book bag before heading out of the class.

It was only kinda interesting – _kinda_.

* * *

Principal Phillip Blake kept few necessities in his office – a picture of his dead wife and vegetable daughter smiling and content on his office desk made of mahogany. A few _Principal of the Year_ awards – three years consecutive – on the side wall, a large bay window on the other side, and backed by a large aquarium of exotic fish illuminating the room in a soft blue glow.

Daryl walks in, slumps in the chair facing the desk. He already knows the drill, and he knows it so well that he pulls out a bullshit letter of apology – already typed and saved on a drive for days like these – and sets it on the man's desk. The man in question is standing by the large window, overlooking the school property and it's not like his office was cold or anything, but he gets a cold chill down his spine because The Principal was seriously creepy as fuck. Always smiling that shit eating grin of his, even though that pretty little wifey of his just kicked the bucket and his cute little girl was paralyzed from the neck down. Who keeps smiling when their life goes to shit?

"So, what have you done today, Daryl?" The Principal drawls expectantly, front still facing the window.

"You know," the young Dixon shrugs, though the man can't see it. "Bit of the usual, I guess. Jim's wound tighter than usual."

The Principal turns then, _smiles_, and ambles casually towards his desk. "Is that so?" Instead of going to sit in his chair, he makes a detour by standing right beside Daryl, who sits looking forward, and leans down. "I've told you how much I dislike it when you disrespect my staff, Daryl." He says in a cold and quiet timbre that would make Daryl lose his shit if he were a lesser type of guy.

Daryl sucks in his cheek, refuses to look at the man standing authoritively beside him. The Principal tilts back, chuckles quietly as he sits down in his large leather chair. "Now, why don't we discuss your future, Daryl?"

Daryl frowns, not expecting that. "My _future_?"

"Or lack thereof," The Principal waves his hand dismissively. "At the rate you're going, you're not going to have much of a future to consider, what with your arrest from this weekend and trial in court pending."

Daryl squints at him, "How'd you hear about that?"

"I have a few friends over at the police department," He says as way of an explanation. "And even if I didn't, the nightly news always does its job of keeping me informed."

Daryl sighs. Seriously, fuck small towns. A baby can't suck its mom's tit without everyone hearing about it. "What's it to you?"

"Do you understand how poorly that reflects on _me_, Daryl?" The Principal asks quietly. "To have a student on the news, not because of his meaningful contributions to the community, but because he's a _shitstain_ on my otherwise clean canvas?" Blake leans forward on his desk, mouth set in a line. "I've been reasonable, and fair. I've given you chances, and opportunities, and you continuously piss them away. How is your brother, Merle?"

Daryl crosses his arms, fights the urge to squirm. "Surviving."

The Principal smiles without humor. "I gather. Let's hope he doesn't drop the soap."

"You done? 'Cause I ain't 'bout to sit here an'-"

"_**Your future**__, Daryl!_" The Principal yells out unexpectantly, banging his hand on his desk, and Daryl quiets. "Consider it for a moment. Everyone was born for a reason, for a purpose. That's what keeps society going, that's why this school remains a pillar in the community, and little wastes of space like you prevent progress and civility. Now, what happens to you when you either drop out, or get expelled is of no concern to me, but while you are here, by God, you _are_ going to be a productive member of this community." His southern drawl, his teeth baring smile, all make Daryl tense.

As if he didn't have an asshole to deal with at home.

"Whatever," Daryl grits out. "I couldn't give a shit about you, or your _community._"

Blake smiles widely. "I'm sure you couldn't. Doing something like that would require multiple brain cells working at once, and you don't have two to rub together."

_"Fuck you."_

"Such crass language," The Principal shakes his head, picking up his ballpoint pen and writing offenses on a pink slip. "Let's see: disruptive in class, insubordination, use of profanity... It would seem that you are one write up away from expulsion, Mr. Dixon. I suppose I should give your father a call."

Daryl leans forward in his seat, his cool broken at the mention of the elder Dixon. "No, don't. He ain't t' be bothered with this."

"On the contrary, Daryl, this is _exactly_ the type of thing we _bother_ parents with."

Except Will Dixon wasn't like other parents. Maybe he'd be so lucky that he forget to pay the phone bill, so that the old man wouldn't be bothered out of his perpetual high.

Blake continues scratching out offenses on his write-up, "I run a tight ship, Daryl. The faster you realize that, the easier life will be," he tears the paper away – an offensive sound to Daryl's ears- and holds out his pen. Daryl eyes it dubiously, as if he's just waiting for The Principal to stab him in the eye with it.

"Go on, sign the slip. You know the drill," Blake waves the pen tauntingly.

Daryl goes to swipe the pen out of the man's hand, but he holds it up at the last second. He does this a couple of more times until he finally lets Daryl have it, and Daryl signs his name in chicken scratch before dropping the pen forcefully on Blake's desk instead of his hand and slamming his office door shut.

He tells Jesse and Amy about it later at lunch – Jesse agrees wholeheartedly that The Principal was a bastard who probably needed to get laid, while Amy is shocked that anyone could think that way of him. "But he's so _nice_!" She says.

Daryl and Jesse exchange glances, the latter pulling down his beanie with a shake of his head.

Amy notices this, and frowns. "What? I mean, I wasn't too sure about him at first, coming from Woodbury and everything," The blonde reveals with a shrug. "But I mean, he _is_ nice – he even wrote me a pass to class when I was late one day."

"That's how he _draws you in_," Jesse exclaims, and Daryl nods beside him. "He's all militant and crap, smiles like the fucking _Joker_," Jesse shudders. "The guy's one move away from losing his shit – you heard about what happened to his wife and kid."

"I know," Amy says emphatically.

"Well, I couldn't give a shit; if he comes at me one more time-" Daryl fumes.

"Daryl," Amy sighs. "Maybe he's having a hard time – not that it excuses his behavior towards _you_!" She adds on quickly when he puffs his chest out, ready to protest that. "But I don't know, he never really acts like that, from what I've seen."

"That's because he's an asshole who only shows his true colors to who he wants," Daryl states.

Jesse juts an approving finger Daryl's way, clapping him on the back. "Exactly."

They're sitting in the open courtyard away from the cafeteria with their trays. Daryl looks out onto the main parking lot where he sees the deputy sheriff entering his squad car. _Must've stayed later to talk to Jim._

Unknowing to him, Amy follows his line of vision until it lands on the head attached to the deputy's hat. She nudges Daryl's side with a teasing grin, "Your parole officer?"

Jesse looks up with a squint of his eyes. "Holy shit, isn't that the guy that arrested you?"

"Yeah," Daryl says dryly, following the car's exit out of the lot. "Cuffed me today too."

Jesse blanches. "What do you mean he _cuffed_ you?"

"Oh, you know," Daryl quirks his lips playfully. "Took out his silver bracelets and whispered in my ear while he jerked me off in the middle of class." He looks at Amy and the blonde is giggling, burying her face into his shoulder.

"Ha, ha, very fucking funny," Jesse takes a bite out of his burger a little more forcefully than necessary. "You and Chuckles over there can just laugh it up."

Amy slows her laughter to snickering, looking over at Jesse with her curious baby blues. "You know, for someone who is the bad influence, you get bent out of shape a lot."

"_I'm_ the bad influence?"

Amy shrugs, picking at her salad. "Well, yeah, with your baggy jacket and pants, acting like you're some gangster or something. Especially since you're planning on turning a gay bar into your own personal meth lab."

"_Shhhhhhhhh!_" Jesse hisses, looking at Daryl accusingly. "You told her? Seriously?"

"He tells me _everything_," Amy rolls her eyes, sneaks Daryl a small, knowing smile that he returns in kind. "And anyways, if you are going to do it, then you need someone to vouch for you with Dale, and I happen to be very close with Dale."

"She's right," Daryl nods. "Old bastard always did seem to like her, and Andrea." Her city crawling, bitchy older sister. But that's a story for another time.

"Don't call him an old bastard," Amy admonishes.

Daryl turns back to Jesse, "Old _geezer_ always did like Ames and Andrea."

"You're _so_ mature," Amy shakes her head.

* * *

Lunch goes by fairly quickly, as it always did when you were hanging out with friends and the real world was out there, but by the end of it Jesse is ramped up at the prospect of getting his meth cooked and sold, and Daryl? Daryl just feels like he's going with the flow for now, trying to get his shit together. Since it's only the beginning of 'shit on Daryl' week, he still has to go face his asshole boss, Ed. Not to mention going to the store and making a few runs for food with money he didn't have because while Amy's mini fridge kept him going since he got out, he hated the fact that she did it at all, not that she would ever complain about it.

Jesse agrees (not that he had a _choice_) to make Amy into a silent partner of sorts to get in with Dale, long as she wasn't involved in much else, which Daryl couldn't agree more with. If he and Jesse got careless and were caught, so be it, but the last thing he wanted was for Amy to get caught up in this. Amy had a future to consider, unlike him. College.

As if _he_ could get into _college_. Yeah. Right. And Merle would be at his graduation with bells on. Better yet, his father.

Still, sad that the highlight of his day was Officer Friendly at his back, pushing him up against a blackboard with cuffs around his wrist, his breath down his neck, and a hard on that was begging to be sucked off.

Actually, maybe that's not so sad at all.

* * *

Heh, realized belated that I was _probably_ spoiling the story in my first AN. _Whoops_. I thank everyone for reading, reviewing, alerting, faving, insert all the aboving. I haven't had this much fun writing in a while (which probably isn't saying much, but _meh_.) As you all know, the smut is coming, I'm just taking a couple of detours first before I get there. But endgame is Rickyl, always Rickyl. Any other questions or concerns, drop me a review and I'll make sure I address it. For quicker updates, this is also available on the kink meme under the same name.

More soon~

DAC


End file.
